The Start of Something New
by Roses-are-red-so-are-lassos
Summary: Erik decides that he has had enough of Paris and wants to move away... To America. Adventure ensues, with phantoms of his past haunting him every step of the way. What will he decide to do? Find out in this new, thrilling adventure! E/C
1. Chapter 1

**New story! This will certainly be updated regularly, and I promise My Road to Redemption will be to, only have a few chapters left to write! So here is the start of a new adventure, one that shall be very interesting indeed...**

 **As per usual all rights go to Gaston Leroux and I don't own any of the characters. Reviews and comments will be gladly received! Thank you.**

"I was thinking maybe America." The fork that had been travelling up to Nadir's mouth paused halfway, his mouth still gawping open as he turned his attention on Erik. They were both sat in the parlour room of Nadir's small Parisian apartment, a little away from the hustle and bustle of the central city. It was snug, the fire casting a warm glow over Persian artefacts that Nadir had obtained from his home city and the occasional flea market that had popped up over the city. His manservant, Darius, lingered in the corner of the room, dressed in a traditional Persian garb; Baggy, white cotton trousers under a long beige tunic, awaiting his masters command. Even he sucked in a baited breath as he waited for his master's reaction.

"I beg your pardon?" He said eventually, placing the food laden fork back down on his plate, the fingers on his other hand drumming out a nervous rhythm on the table beneath.

"You heard what I said, Nadir." Erik murmured, focusing once more on the newspaper before him with rapt attention. Nadir needn't ask what had caught his friends eyes, for he knew. The wedding date of that Christine girl was there, on the third page, in bold black capital letters. Perhaps that is what caused his friends sudden remark.

"I did, but… Are you certain? America is a whole new world away!" Nadir exclaimed, pushing his plate away from him. The food suddenly was incredibly unappetising to say the least as a nervous knot started to form in his stomach. He signalled for Darius to take the food away, which he did with the silence of a prowling tiger. It wasn't long before it was just the two men left in the room.

"Precisely the reason why it is the perfect getaway location. A brand new start." Nadir pondered the suggestion for a moment, as he steepled his fingers underneath his chin.

"Yes, that is true. As well as that, no one will know us."

"Us?" Erik said, looking up from his newspaper in surprise. Nadir gave him the same look back.

"Goodness me Erik, you don't think I'm going to allow you to go on your biggest adventure yet without me, do you? No, I think not. Darius and I will be accompanying you, as is custom." Nadir stood up suddenly and paced around the parlour room, his friend's eyes trained on him in amusement. "We will need to look up shipping times and obtain some tickets, of course we will need to tell the Giry's about our arrangement-" Erik interrupted him with a derisive snort and threw the paper on to the ground, it's printed pages just inches from the fire.

"And why do we need to get those… those… Backstabbing witches involved?" He huffed, still unforgiving towards the two ladies who willingly revealed his lair to the De Chagny boy.

"Oh now Erik, really. That is a cruel thing to say about the two woman who have stood by your side for all these years." Erik laughed coldly, his eyes hardening with anger and bitterness as he stared in to the fire.

"Yes, and it took them a mere five minutes to change sides and betray me." Nadir scoffed and sat back down in his seat, his fingers intertwined as he leant forward on the table. He was about to jibe his friend but then he saw the deep set sadness resonating in Erik's golden eyes and sighed. He should've known better, really. The Giry's were like family to Erik, and to witness that sudden betrayal killed Erik even more inside. If his own family were willing to turn him, then who could he trust?

"Erik, they were worried. About you, and Christine, but especially her. She was young, frightened. She was as much as a daughter to her as you were her brother, but she had to choose one to rescue. Christine isn't as strong as you, so that is why Anna chose her, because you had gone… Well, insane." Nadir braced himself for a backlash of curses and threats, for comments like these normally had him against the wall, a hand hovering dangerously over his neck but nothing came. For the first time, in what seemed to be an age, Nadir studied his oldest friend in great detail. The flickering flames lit up his face, as well as the light from the sallow candles that sagged in their brass holders and grew concerned. He had never seen Erik look so… tired. The former opera ghost of the grand Palais Garnier looked exhausted from life, his eyes rimmed with heavy mauve circles, poorly concealed from stage makeup. He obviously didn't want Nadir to see how much the whole ordeal had affected him, in body and mind. The familiar spark he had seen so often resonate in Erik's eyes was dull, unwavering and truly, Erik really did look like a shadow of his former self. He had appeared to shrivel into himself, the fire that raged in him was no longer there, the confidence was broken.

"Erik?" He probed when he didn't reply.

"I am so tired, Nadir." It was as if he had been reading his mind, and Nadir had to stop his eyebrows rising up in surprise at the sudden confession. "I am tired of being the mad man that lives in a cellar. I am tired of being hated. I know I went insane, but she intoxicated me. And look what good that did me!" He exulted, grimacing as his voice broke on the last words. Looking away in embarrassment, he let out a shuddering breath and got up from his seat. "I need a fresh start. Away from this… place. Away from her. I want to live in the sun and not in the darkness."

"I understand." Erik nodded and picked up his cloak that he had draped on the chair behind him.

"I'm going to go for a walk, get some fresh air." He said, his cold persona quickly switched on after revealing too much emotion for his liking. As he stalked over to the door, Nadir asked him to wait for a minute.

"Perhaps, on your travels, you should visit Anna."

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Because she deserves to know about your plans, Erik. Plus, she is worried about you. She loves you, and wants you to be happy. You do know that, right?"

"Yes. I suppose I do." He grumbled, not willing to fully admit the truth as he opened the door and stepped out in to the darkness, the moon deciding it did not want to show its face tonight.

"We'll discuss America in more detail tomorrow then?"

"Yes, yes…" Erik agreed as he shut the door behind him leaving a bemused Nadir behind. Darius was still in the kitchen, taking a painstakingly long time to wash one plate and a set of cutlery so he could eavesdrop on the conversation. He felt a surge of excitement at the words exchanged and could not help but conjure up spectacular images of America and the endless opportunities that were open to them. Upon hearing his master summon him to the parlour room, Darius placed the plate on the drying rack and entered the room, drying his hands on a tea towel he grasped in his hand.

"Yes, Master?"

"Get some rest, Darius. We have a busy day ahead of us. We're moving to America."


	2. Chapter 2

**Another chapter for you all! Please review and leave some comments on what you think, thanks for the reviews guys! I appreciate them so much. As usual i do not own any of the characters and all rights go to Gaston Leroux etc. Thanks again guys! Much love x**

Erik walked from one district to the next, barely taking in the surroundings around him as he thought of his next new adventure approaching him. It would certainly be risky but necessary, though he had no clue what they were going to do when they arrived there. Perhaps it was time to put that large sum of money to use, maybe invest in some land or a business, but that was something that could be decided when they arrived there. Finally, Erik reached the ninth district of Paris, his residential area of course and as he rounded a corner and caught a glimpse of the mighty Palais Garnier standing there, a chill ran down his spine. Normally, the sight of the Opera House brought him an immense feeling of security as well as joy but now as he stared up at the golden statues atop the mighty building, it brought him a thick sense of dread. He quickly hurried past, towards a cluster of apartments that resided in a somewhat seedier part of the district, with boisterous music seeping out of shuttered windows and drunken laughter ringing in the air. It wasn't long before he reached a familiar sight; a two storeyed abode with a brick coloured door and a crudely painted number 6 next to the brass knocker. This used to be his hideaway, long ago when he was a young man before he discovered the cellars of the Opera House. He had lived side by side with the Giry's and both had been respectful for his need of privacy as his tormented mind plunged him further into a twisted despair. He left on a chilly November night and travelled to Russia, ended up in trouble in Persia then slunk back to his cavern in the Opera House. He hadn't stepped foot on this doorstep in more than twelve years yet here he was, staring at the door before him, his gloved hand resting on the blistered wood before him. No light came out from the windows upstairs, but downstairs the parlour room light dimly bled through the thick curtains that hid them from the nosy street walkers. Those same curtains that had hidden Erik away from the gypsies when they went to hunt him down after his escape. How long ago that was. Erik found himself staring at the door for a good ten minutes before he managed to muster up the courage to drop the brass knocker against the wood. He only did it once, a short metallic sound ringing out as he stepped back into the street, the pavement the only barrier between he and the house. It wasn't long before the door was opened, a face etched with concentration lit by an oil lamp grasped in her hand as she peered out in to the darkness. Her eyes widened with surprised when her light finally reached the dark figure before her, his steely gaze locked on to her face.

"Erik." She gasped, stuck to the spot as Erik went to her, nodding his head in greeting.

"Good evening Anna." For a while she stood dumbstruck, before mustering up a stressed string of words, her throat constricting from sudden dryness.

"I must confess…I thought I'd never see you here." She said in a strained voice. Erik merely shrugged at the statement, scuffing his neatly polished shoe against the rough pavement in a moment of agitation.

"No, neither did I. But the old fool can be very convincing when he needs to be." A moment of silence, carried out awkwardly between the two before Anna closed the door further behind her and stared at the haunting figure before her.

"Erik, if you are here to kill me you must hear- "

"Don't be preposterous Anna. I would never and will never kill you. How could you even say that?" He uttered, aghast at the very idea that Anna would ever think that.

"I've never seen you so angry at me before… You had coldness in your eyes, I was certain you would do something to me." She whispered and for the first time Erik saw how much he had truly scared her that night. Sighing, in a resigned sort of tone, Erik let down the coldness that harboured him for so long and did something he had never done before to her. He showed her his true emotions. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulder, grimacing at the flinch he felt under his hand and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arm around her petite back. One of her arms stayed astray, clasping the oil lamp with a tight grip before the other, after some time, slinked its way around his broad back. Her breath, soft and fluttering against his chest came out quickly like the beat of a butterfly's wings as it wafted in the wind and her heart slowed down from the quick rush of comfort that overcame her.

"Anna, I am so sorry. I truly am. I never meant to scare you so much. You know how much you mean to me… I was just upset that you chose to go behind my back so easily. But now… I understand why you did it and I am so thankful that you did. Truly, you saved my life. I was not myself. I was the Opera Ghost that night, I had no control. You did the right thing and saved her from me." Pulling away, he held her at arm's length and gave her a concerned gaze. "Christine... I…Is she ok? She's doing well, yes?" Stepping out of his embrace, Anna tightened the emerald green shawl around her shoulders overwhelmed from this new Erik that stood before her.

"Yes, she's fine. She's happy."

"Good… That's good…" Again his throat caught on the words and he cleared his throat, looking away in embarrassment as a stray tear welled at the corner of his eye. Even saying her name meant a tidal wave of emotion coursed through his body. "Good." He said absentmindedly.

"Erik…?"

"Sorry… I just… I miss her. So much. I regret everything I did to her. I hate myself for that, how horrible I must've seemed to her. No wonder she ended up loathing me. Not that I blame her."

"Erik…" Anna reached out and rubbed his arm gently, "She doesn't hate you."

"And how could you possibly know that?" He muttered bitterly, refusing to make eye contact.

"Because she told me. After everything, we sat down and talked… And she doesn't hate you. She misses you to and isn't too fond of the way things were left but I don't think it best..." Erik held up a placating hand.

"To not see her, I know. I am not here to track her down or see her. I wouldn't want to hurt her further. I came here to see you. I need to tell you something."

"Ok…" Anna said warily, not sure as to where this was going.

"I'm leaving, Anna. Forever. I'm moving to America, with Nadir and Darius. And I am never coming back. I thought you deserved to know."

"Forever?" She questioned. "Erik… That's a bit drastic, don't you think?"

"No… Paris is done with me and I'm done with Paris. I need to escape this damned place and start anew. I'm tired of being the scary man that lives underground." A sudden noise down the road made Erik jump, it was the sound of a garbage can lid rolling along the ground and the yowl of an alley cat that rang in the air. Erik shuddered as a sudden chill laced itself into the air and pulled his cloak tighter around his body.

"What about Meg and I?" Anna asked, slightly concerned that he would no longer be around to keep a protective eye on the two ladies. They had always felt a sense of security when Erik was nearby and now he was moving to America!

"You're more than welcome to join us, it's your decision entirely. Just be warned I will be leaving in a week, so you'll need to make your choice soon."

"But Christine's wedding is next week and I cannot miss that! She is my surrogate daughter after all." Another sound, this time of slurred voices as they got closer to the house. Erik tilted his hat further to hide his mask, pulled the dark folds of his cloak tighter around his body to make himself invisible to the eye.

"Anna, listen… You can come after the wedding. I'll get Darius to come with you if you do decide to come…" More shouting as the jeering voices got closer, "We will talk about this later… I'll come on Tuesday eve, at seven but now I should make myself scarce and so should you. I'll be back… Please lock the door behind you." He said in a hurried voice before melting away in to the darkness without so much as a goodbye to her. Anna did as he said, locking the door behind her just in time as the drunken voices drifted past the door, the sound of a bottle smashing making her jump out of her skin. In her home, one she had lived in for twenty odd years, she felt safe and secure. Erik had made sure it was like a fortress, impossible for strangers to invade or break in and she incredibly grateful that he had. The people around her were getting wilder by the second. She set the lamp on the short grandfather clock next to her and took a breath of composure, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before walking into the parlour. The door was ajar and she cursed quietly to herself knowing that the girl who stood before her had heard every word that had transpired.

"That was him, wasn't it?" She breathed, the hand that clutched the embroidery shaking slightly as she stared at her surrogate mother, "That was Erik."

"Yes child, it was. You shouldn't eavesdrop either, I have told you this many times before." Anna sighed, picking up her own embroidery that she had abandoned on the sofa next to the window. She sat down in a collapse and continued her sewing.

"He's _leaving_?"

"Yes."

" _Why?_ How could he do this?" Christine cried, throwing her embroidery on the table beside her.

"He is an adult and he can make his own decisions, dear. Besides, his moving away will do you and Raoul a world of good. You can finally relax."

"I don't want him to leave." Anna looked up from her sewing perplexed.

"Why on earth not?"

"Because… Because… Aghhh!" She exalted, throwing her hands up in the air in agitation, "I don't know! Because I've felt safe knowing he was around, because I've known him for most of my life and now he's leaving? Because he is the one man that truly knows me… He's the one connection I have to my father…" Anna rolled her eyes, a little angered by her words.

"Well then, perhaps you shouldn't have treated him so foully. Maybe you two could have figured something out but it is far too late for that now. You have Raoul now and he can keep you safe, you know that."

"He treated me unfairly as well, you know that!" Christine snapped before sighing deeply, "I know we both fought each other and I know that we were cruel to each other. I just wish I could change the way it was." Christine sat down on the edge of the sofa, resting her tired head in her hands, her eyes glazed with sadness which caught Anna's attention.

"You are not happy with Raoul then?"

"Yes… No… I don't know Mama, it's hard to explain. I just… I just don't feel the same things with him that I felt with Erik." Anna placed her embroidery down and leant forward in interest. This certainly was new information.

"Christine, you're going to be marrying Raoul in less than a week and you're having these feelings now? Don't you think that's unfair on Raoul?"

"Yes, I do. I am just so confused, Mama." Anna tapped her chin in thought, knowing that the only way her daughters mind would be cleared was to meet Erik once again.

"Come here, on Tuesday eve at seven." Christine looked at her horror.

"You're not seriously suggesting…?"

"Oh yes, child. It is time you had a talk with Erik."


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter for you all! A little bit of heart ache but it must be done. As usual I do not own any of the characters and all rights go Gaston Leroux etc. Reviews are welcome as always, and thank you to those who take the time out of their day to read my story. It is most appreciated. With love, M.**

Like the stone faced workers whose ashen faces matched that of the sky, Darius stood in the fine rain, ignoring the steady trickle that was quickly making its way down his back. The sky was like a slate, motionless with only the huge black hulls of cruise ships piercing the gloominess. Even the sun had hidden its face, choosing instead to shy behind the heavy blanket of sky and suck the warmth away as if for once it had chosen to warm itself up. He was uncomfortable, that was for certain. His black hair was slick to his forehead, his brow scrunched as he made some effort to keep the rain out of his dark eyes. One covered arm stuck out, an umbrella attached at the end as the other remained bent behind his back, observing his master haggle for tickets for the next journey to America. The thought of this adventure, which had once been consoling and exciting to him, now instead caused him to fret for the thought of not knowing to expect. Darius had always had a plan and was so efficiently organised that Nadir needn't worry much about missing a meeting, for Darius was there to remind him. He was a man who needed to know what was going to happen so he could make sure his master would be prepared. But what use would that be in America when they had no clue as to what to do? He shuddered suddenly and he was not sure if it was from the biting cold or the notion that America would ruin him. His concentration was broken by a huff of annoyance from his master as he pocketed five tickets, two for the 17th of February which were for Erik and himself. The other three were for two weeks after, for the Giry's and Darius who agreed to accompany them should they decide to come. Darius had begrudgingly agreed to assist them though he'd much rather be at his masters side and thought this over and over as Nadir steered them through the dock workers towards the cab they had hired for the day.

"I hope Erik appreciates all this trouble I go through for him. That ticket lackey was as useful as a grave robber in a crematorium." He grunted, thrusting open the cab door as Darius fussed with the umbrella.

"Sir?" Darius questioned, not quite understanding but Nadir merely shook his head.

"Never mind. At least we have the tickets." He said as he patted his pocket in triumph. The lackey had been extremely resistant to sell tickets for the seemingly booked out ferries until Nadir had dumped a sack of money right in front of his eyes. Apparently, obtaining tickets wasn't so hard after that. Nadir thumped the roof of the cab, settling back in to the lush seats as the coach lurched forward, earning several surprised shouts from pedestrians who had stepped into the street without much thought.

"Sir... What awaits us in America?" Darius dared to ask, fiddling with the handle of the now soaked umbrella in his hand. Nadir spread out his hands in a gesture that Darius was so used to that it seemed odd his master hadn't done so in a while. It was one of uncertainty.

"I am not sure, my boy. Perhaps glory, perhaps something else. We shall have to wait and see."

"But Master Erik is adamant we go?"

"Yes. Of course, you don't have to go, Darius, if you do not want to. I have told you time and again you are your own man and the world is yours if you wish to grasp it." Darius scoffed at the thought of a life other than the one he had and curled his lip in disgust.

"There is nothing of interest for me out there at all. You are my master. I go where you go." Nadir smirked at the comment.

"Whatever you say, dear boy."

Tuesday arrived and the weather hadn't improved much at all. Winter still lingered in every corner of Paris, no one could quite escape it, especially when tendrils of ice started to decorate the very sidewalks they walked on. Madame Giry paced up and down the parlour in an agitated manor as Christine observed from her seat, chewing on her thumb nail in nervousness.

"Perhaps this is not such a good idea." She finally murmured, stopping Anna in her tracks.

"This is the only way to clear your head of yours. No, we will go through with this. Just remember, we have not planned this meeting, it must seem accidental."

"Yes well, Erik is always early so it shouldn't seem so incomprehensible that we should meet unexpectedly."

"You are quite right." Anna glanced at the clock, gasping that it was already quarter to seven and grasped Christine's face in her soft hands. "Now my dear, would you prefer me to be in the room or leave you be?"

"I'll be fine on my own mama, thank you." She seemed to tremble, so Anna drew her close to her breast, caressing her hair as if consoling a young child frightened from a nightmare.

"I'll be near by dear one, don't hesitate to call for me." And then, as if on cue, a knock on the door sounded.

Erik looked up at the sky and grimaced at the aching grey clouds that had started to roll over the city. The air had a bitterness to it that set him on edge, reminding him all too much of his now abandoned underground home. He shrank further into the comfort of his cloak as his feet pounded the frost bitten streets of Paris, passing an avenue of gnarled birches that twisted up to the forlorn sky, the white bark peeling off so that it looked like torn cotton had been wrapped around it's dark trunk. Another left, another right, down a slight incline (he was doing his best to avoid catching a glimpse of the Opera House) before he appeared at the end of Madame Giry's street. A vagabond, dressed in an outfit of beige, eyed him suspiciously as he went by, but that didn't stop him from rattling the tin can he held in his hand. Erik spared him a glance and was startled at the icy grey eyes that glared back at him, surrounded by whiskers of the same colour. The man wrinkled his nose and spat at the floor. Erik did not give him his change. Making sure he was some distance away from the tramp, he retrieved his pocket watch from the silk inline pocket of his jacket and observed that he was ten minutes early. He checked his appearance in the reflection of a nearby window, straightened his collar, then knocked on Anna's door. It was opened within seconds, as if she had been expecting him to arrive early and she smiled at him uncertainly.

"Erik, you're early." He noticed the discomfort in her smile but chose not to mention it.

"Of course. I have never been late in all my years, you should know that by now."

"Yes, I should." She grimaced, glancing over her should as a noise came from the room next to her.

"What's the matter? You look on edge." Erik frowned, peering over her shoulder before his face dropped and eyes widened. There, standing in the hallway with an oil lamp gripped in her hand, was Christine who looked back at him in equal surprise.

"Erik..." She murmured and how that voice roused so many quashed memories that they all threatened to bubble up violently to the surface.

"I... H-hello Christine." He said, hating how he stuttered before looking at Anna for an explanation.

"It's my fault really. I should've known you'd be early but Christine needed to go over a few last minute details with me. She was actually just about to leave..."

"Ah... Well. Perhaps I should come back another time?" He said, already starting to back away from the doorway.

"Actually Erik... Seeing as you're here I was wondering if we could talk?" Christine asked with such politeness it was impossible for him to refuse such a request. Then again, what was there to talk about? As far as he was concerned, they had made each other's choices clear in the lair and it was time to start afresh. Sparing a glance for Madame Giry, who looked at the ground sheepishly, Erik acquiesced to her request and stepped into the hallway. Her lavender scent attacked his senses but he did not respond to it. He would not fall into that abyss again. He removed his cloak and hung it up in the coat stand, looking at the two ladies expectantly.

"I'll give you two some privacy." Anna murmured, shutting the parlour room behind them. They listened to her pad down the hallway and up the stairs, knowing they were truly alone when they heard a door upstairs shut. Erik stood closest to the door, his hand inches from the handle should he wish to make a quick escape. She stood by the fireplace, the warm flames giving her an almost ethereal glow as her chestnut coloured hair hung like a heavy curtain of silk down her back. Her eyes, normally bright and full of light looked tired, the grey chalk like marks under her eyes emphasising her exhaustion.

"Are you well?" She started, threading a piece of ribbon she had picked up through her fingers. Erik watched her agitated fingers with a fascinated interest before remembering a question had been asked.

"As well as anyone can be. And you?" She shrugged and looked in the fire as if she could find a suitable response in the amber flames.

"Yes. I suppose." Erik raised his eyebrow though chose not to respond. He looked around the room in awkwardness until his gaze settled on a book of swatches, with pieces of fabric that had been taken out and laid almost too perfectly against the claret coloured sofa. Christine noticed his fixed attention and swallowed thickly. "For the wedding. I can't decide on what colour napkins to have... What would you say?" Erik swallowed the rise of bile that was quick to constrict his throat and could not keep the bitterness that was quick to add to his response.

"If you wanted to talk to me about what colour napkins to have at your wedding I'm afraid your talking to the wrong person entirely."

"I'm sorry that was cruel of me."

"Was it?" Erik said dryly, glowering at the thought of the De Chagny boy and his Christine tying the knot in a couple of days time. Then, with growing frustration, asked "what do you want to talk about, Christine? Because if I recall correctly, the last time we were together you never wanted to talk to me again." She looked away in discomfort.

"I feel like we need closure." At this Erik snorted, raking his hand through his black hair before letting it fall to his side again.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, "you want closure?" When she didn't reply he took a few steps forward until he was a mere few steps away, "No, you want an apology, am I right? Well I am sorry, Christine. I am sorry for making your life a living hell, I am sorry for all the lies, the deceit. I know what I did was wrong and if I could go back in time and change everything I would. I would make sure that I didn't take you on as a student so that my presence from your life would be spared. Maybe then you would he happy."

"Erik-"

"Though you should be happy now, getting to marry the man of your dreams. I let you go so you could be happy. Why aren't you happy, Christine?" He interrupted, studying her tired face in more detail, how her hair up close was drab and lank, her fingernails chewed to the wick. She took a while to reply.

"I wish we could have changed the way things were as well. You were cruel but so was I, especially when I tore your mask off. Perhaps, if I hadn't of done that, you wouldn't have hated me so much. We could've learn to trust each other, to live with each other. I just don't understand, why did you have to be so abhorrently cruel?"

"It is all I know. I take things in spite because I haven't been shown how to do it in kindness." She did not know how to respond and so she fell silent, letting the ribbon fall from her fingers.

"You think that by never talking to me, I'd be happy? You are foolish to think that. You were the only one to bring happiness to those dark times. The only one talk of my father as if he were a living being. As much as you will choose to disbelieve it, you were the one who brought a lightness to my darkness. Why did you think I followed you so willingly that night to your lair? I wanted to understand the man who was my saviour."

"I see your naivety still clings to you like a child to its mother." He said, a little too meanly so that he sighed and apologised softly, his hand reaching up to brush her cheek before he decided against it and let it fall back to his side. "I wasn't your saviour, Christine. I was a greedy man who suffered from your beauty and voice and needed to have it to myself. I was selfish."

"I thrived off that greed. It made me feel like I was worth something." And then, she started to cry so suddenly that Erik grew alarmed at the fat tears that started trailing down her cheeks, "you were the only one who was ever there for me and I threw that kindness back in your face. I am sorry, Erik. You did not deserve that."

"Hush now... Please, don't cry. You know I hate to see you cry." It was then that Christine closed the distance and rested her forehead on his chest, listening to his heart throb at the contact. He brought his hands up and rested them on the small of her back, pressing her closer to his form so that he might get an imprint of her against him. In response, she wound her arms around his taught back, turning to rest her lips against his cotton covered thorax.

"You're right. I am not happy. I miss you too much. I miss our singing lessons, the hours spent reading and drinking tea. I miss the stories you used to tell me, the melodies you played on the piano. I made the wrong decision... Although you didn't exactly give me a choice." Erik peered down then, looking at where her hair whorled at the crown, at the cluster of freckles that lay spattered beneath her hairline.

"What do you mean?" He scarcely dared to breathe, as if this sweet embrace would be torn away from him forever. She sighed heavily, as if in distress.

"I wanted to choose you. You were just so horrible that I chose Raoul out of spite, like the child that I am. But he does not make me happy. I love him, I do. Just not as deeply as I ought to."

"These are not the feelings you ought to be having towards a man who you're about to marry." He said sagely, breathing in her lavender scent so that it grew imbedded in his mind.

"I don't want to marry him." She whispered timidly, before breaking away from the embrace.

"Don't be silly Christine. He is a wealthy man of a high borne position that can look after you well. It-" he was suddenly cut off by the quick, sweet pressure of lips against his, the heat they brought searing him to the bone. It was over before it began.

"I love you." She whispered vehemently, clutching at the lapels of his jacket. It was Erik who initiated the kiss this time, claiming her lips for his own as his hands roamed up her body to her hair which he grabbed gently in fistfuls. In response, she slid her hands under the folds of his jacket so that they snaked up his back to his nape where her touch burned the very spot it explored. The kiss was deepened, lips slick as their mouths opened and tongues explored crevices they hadn't done before. She withdrew her hands so she could unfasten the first few buttons of his shirt, she needed to touch him, to feel him. He responded by pressing her against wall next to the fireplace, his hand roaming down to the nape of neck before it drifted further and cupped her breast, her heartbeat thundering away under neath silk and the whalebone of her corset. At this contact, she gasped in his mouth, from the sudden pleasure that washed over her. It was this gasp that reminded Erik of why he was here in the first place and stumbled away in dismay.

"Christine, no. This isn't right. You are deluded, you cannot possibly love me."

"But-"

"No. I am moving to America, Christine, far away so that you and Raoul have a chance at a normal life. He is the man you deserve. You must stop this childish fantasy and grow up."

"Why won't you let me make my own decisions?!" She cried, balling her small hands into fists from frustration.

"Because they are that of a child!" He shouted fiercely. A silent tension cast the room as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. "I cannot let you go through with this delusion. Marry Raoul, for your sake or mine."

"You can't go!" She sobbed, reaching for him but he backed away and held up a placating hand.

"I can and I will. Christine, I am poison and am no good to anyone, especially you. You do not deserve someone as lowly as me. I only bring you pain."

"A pain I can suffer-"

"Stop. Just... Stop." He rested his hand on the door handle and sighed, casting his forlorn gaze to the floor so she would not see. "Marry Raoul. It is the best choice for you. Forget me. Let your wounds heal. Please... Just forget me." Her response was to cry swollen tears that seemed to thud against the parquet floor beneath her. She listened to the door click open but did not hear him step into the hallway.

"Christine...?" She glanced up in a hope that was too wretched to bear.

"Yes?" He looked over his shoulder, studying the coloured samples that lay like horrid reminders of the event soon to come.

"I'd chose red. It's the same colour of the roses I used to get you and it compliments your beauty. It always has done." Then the door clicked shut and she was left alone in the room staring at the samples in hatred. In her frustration, she picked the book up and hurled it against the wall opposite her, before her legs gave way and she crumpled against the sofa in a grief so suffocating that she cried like she had when her father passed away. Meanwhile, in the hallway, Erik gulped down great breaths as his mind screamed and his heart cried. Anna appeared, alarmed by the crying and looked at him in explanation he chose not to give. As he shouldered on his cloak, he told Anna of their travel plans.

"Nadir and I will be leaving on the 17th of February. He has purchased tickets for you and Meg, should you wish to come, for the 3rd of March. Darius will accompany you." She nodded but could not help glancing at the parlour room door where Christine's cries thickened the air they breathed with grief. "See to her. She is delusional." He croaked, raking back his hair in exasperation before making for the door.

"Erik... What if I choose not to come? What if I never see you again?"

"You will come. There is nothing left for you here in Paris. I will see you soon Annie." Before she could even utter her response, he had gone, vanished into the dark Parisian streets. Sighing, she closed the door behind him and attended to her ward.

Erik arrived at Nadir's apartment with a slam of the door and an anguished cry as he removed his cloak and let it fall at his feet. Nadir appeared concerned in the hallway, his half moon glasses slipping down his nose and he peered at Erik out of them.

"Goodness me, whatever is the matter? You look like you're going to be sick." Erik tightened his lips together before stringing out a half hearted comment.

"I am fine."

"You don't look it." Nadir scoffed, not used to this new bewildered fashion his friend had chosen to take on.

"The sooner we get to America, the better." Erik snapped, before pacing to his room and slammed the door shut. Nadir eyed after him, before glancing at the crumpled fabric that lay at his feet. Sighing, he picked it up, noticing a note had been left in the inner breast pocket of his cloak. He picked at the corner in interest, slipping it up to see that his name had been deftly written in fine black calligraphy, probably from Anna's hand. He pocketed the note into his own and hung the cloak up, looking back down the hallway before sighing and decided it was best to leave his friend alone. He was right to do so, as Erik was pacing the already worn floor beneath him, not sure if he wanted to lash out in anger or cry in despair. He needed darkness and so he went across to closet that was large enough for him to crouch in and sat in there. Truly alone, he grasped his head in his hands and that was when an awful trembling set over his body. It didn't take long to subside but when it did, he did something that he hadn't done since he was a child, and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Another instalment for you all! Thanks so much for the reviews I really appreciate it. I don't own any of the characters (expect for Lucille) and all rights go to Gaston Leroux etc. Please leave a review on what you think and enjoy!**

Paris sat in a gloomy fog. Effects from the Franco- Prussian war still lingered in the streets, evident from the hungry, destitute beggars that dragged their lumbering forms around the twisting alleyways. Many buildings lay abandoned, their windows boarded with splintered wood, lease signs nailed to the door. Not that it had affected the De Chagny family that much, as they sat in their high walled manor house surrounded by acres of land. Their windows remained full of light and prosperity, whilst the working class of Paris suffered in the cold. Yet, the man that sat in the high backed wing chair in the eloquently decorated parlour room stared into the fire in concentration. His brow furrowed, his lips puckered, he was the epitome of a scholar as his steepled fingers rested against his broad chin. Mouse coloured hair peppered with flecks of grey had been swept back in to a tousled mess and a slight stubble had started to grow. He was a man in distress as the crumbling economy threatened to nip at him any second, threatening to lay off a handful of his employees as he struggled to pay them all. It was all such a mess and he loathed the Prussians even more because of it. And then, there was his brother and that bride of his, the one that his friends and family had started to call the 'Corpse Bride', because of her waning appearance. Phillipe barely saw her, but when he did spot her in the high ceilinged rooms gazing at nothing in particular he noticed how ghost like she had become. He worried for her health, not because he cared for her but cared for his brother. Should she continue to diminish, she would die and he knew Raoul would never be the same again and how he cursed her for that. He thought it all a little too scandalous for his liking and wished the whole affair had never happened. The door unlatched and he was drawn from his thoughts as footsteps sounded in the room but did not look up. He knew it was Raoul.

"Brother, you have been sitting in that chair for almost an hour. What troubles you?" His youthful voice asked. Phillipe looked up from the fire, observing his younger brother as he made his way across the room and took a seat opposite him. He wore a simple burgundy waistcoat with a cravat that matched, slate grey slacks and a white collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Whilst his clothes looked smart, his countenance was not as his hair lay dishevelled on top of his head, a similar appearance to his brothers and his eyes flickered tiredly from one part of the room to the next, a dull ache pounding away in his head.

"What troubles me? I should be asking you the same question, Raoul. You have been distant ever since that unfortunate night."

"Yes, well… Being strangled almost to death is a traumatic incident, would you believe it?" Philippe huffed in annoyance.

"No need to be dry with me, young man. I'm only concerned about you."

"I know, Philippe. I wish you'd stop." Raoul moaned in frustration, thrusting his chin in to his right hand. Philippe raised a perfect eyebrow.

"It is my duty as your older sibling to be concerned. How is Christine? Have you talked to her today?" At the mention of her name, Raoul seemed to shrink into himself. A month had almost passed since the incident in the cellars and it was noticeable that she had not yet quite recovered from the ordeal. In fact, she barely talked to him, perhaps the occasional stringed together sentence, but she showed no enthusiasm in being with him. He thought of her bizarre behaviour a few nights before, when she had returned home with puffy eyes and cheeks stained with tears. She went straight to her bedroom without even a word of greeting, allowing only her handmaid Lucille into the room to attend to her. In all honesty, Raoul had not encountered her since then. She refused to allow him to enter.

"She is… Well. And I have." Philippe scoffed, not fooled.

"Raoul, please. I meant in person." Raoul gave out an anguished cry, kicking back from his seat. Frustrated that his fiancé showed no interest in him and that his brother could see this plainly irritated him to end.

"No, alright Philippe! I haven't. She refuses to see me, to talk to me face to face. She hasn't been the same since that damned night. Since the other day she has only got worse and she won't tell me why." Like a child deprived of a sweet, he threw himself down in the seat and sighed in agitation.

"Perhaps you should go see that lady, what is her name… Madame Giry? I believe she was with her last, wasn't she? Perhaps she will know what the matter is with that girl." Raoul winced slightly at the harsh ending of the sentence, looking warily at his brother.

"Please, I know you are not fond of her but could you at least call her by her name? She is human after all." Philippe said nothing, but got up from his seat, observing his brother with a plain expression.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend you. I suppose I cannot change your mind, or your heart." He paused, looking at a framed drawing that sat pride of place on the mantel piece. It had been drawn by his old flame, one that he regretted ever separating from every single day. "But don't forget, other people aren't as strong as you and I and they change. Please, don't hold on to something that isn't meant to be and cause yourself all of this heartache. Don't make the same mistake as me." Raoul stared at him astonishment, for he never cared to share such sentimental advice with him before and watched as Philippe turned and left the room. Panic set in as he thought over his words, his heart thundering beneath his chest as the old demons began to scratch at his mind. What if… A flash of a corpse's head, the wicked grin, the luminous eyes all came flooding back to him after a month of suppression and he shuddered at the sight. His fingertips dug into the arms of the chair, the fabric nipping the underneath of his nails as he froze in position, a black shadow forming in-front of him with a coiled red lasso wrapped around his arm. The shadow drifted forward and he stopped breathing, his throat constricting as if the lasso had made itself home again before he blinked and the shadow disappeared, leaving nothing but a chill. Raoul got up, breathing erratically as he backed away towards the door, keeping his eyes on the spot where he has seen this manifestation. Without breaking his stare, he called for his manservant Pasha who was lingering in the hallway and ordered him to get the carriage ready. He needed to pay a visit to an old acquaintance of his.

In her room on the third floor, Christine stared out across the expanse of greenery, past the lake where she liked to feed the swans and towards the city of Paris that loomed in the distance. Somewhere in the warren of streets was Erik, getting ready to leave forever and leave her to an existence she no longer wanted. She shook her head and screwed up her eyes, cursing her ungratefulness. Erik was right, she could have everything she ever wanted her, for the De Chagny family were powerful, rich and influential. She knew that Raoul would do anything for her, as he had so often proved but she could not bear to look it him at the moment. Christine wondered if it had anything to do with the wariness that Raoul displayed towards her, the mollycoddled protection he needed to keep her safe from danger and she hated it. She had never felt more like a child in her life and she was so alone, for even his siblings acted dissonant towards her. The eldest brother, whose lip seemed to curl in distaste whenever she entered the room (though when she thought about, Philippe and she never seemed to get along) and the sisters, Helene and Adalie, who excluded her from their activities. The only one she seemed to get along with was her handmaid, a sweet young girl who went by the name of Lucille. Her fiery red hair was always coiled back in to a French twist and her moss coloured eyes sparkled against porcelain skin splattered with chocolate coloured freckles. She was in the room with her as she gazed out across the garden, folding garments and putting them away in their allocated draws. Christine had gotten to know her handmaid in the six months she had stayed in the De Chagny household before that awful night and the two had formed a sisterly connection, much liked she had done with Meg.

"You seem to be awfully distracted, Ma'am. Is everything alright?" Christine sighed, drawing patterns with her finger on the table top beneath her.

"No, not really Lucille. I feel empty, like I am missing some great part of me." Lucille clucked her tongue, put the last garment away and wondered over to her mistress, standing a respectable distance to the side.

"You have not been the same since that night, pardon me saying." She added hurriedly, colouring at her forwardness. She had always had a carless tongue, but fortunately for her, Christine did not mind. She liked her frankness.

"Oh Lucille, you should know me better by now. You know you can speak your mind to me, I will not tell on you." Lucille bowed her head in respect and pulled up a chair, sitting in it primly with her hands folded in her lap.

"Very well. I knew something was the matter as soon as you stepped out of that carriage. You held yourself differently, like you had deflated. What happened?" Christine gazed at her softly, holding out her hand. Lucille grasped it like it was an anchoring weight that she could never let go off for fear of drowning and stared back with avid interest. She had never had such a relationship as this and loved the trust this beautiful woman seemed to share with her. It filled her with pride.

"I suppose you've heard of the events at the Opera House?"

"Yes… Well only snippets that I heard from Jean-Pierre and Denis. I know that you and Master Raoul were involved in the events, that you were dragged underground by that mad man…" Christine winced at the insult, dragging her gaze away from the young maiden.

"Perhaps… He was mad. He had been driven mad, certainly. But what can you expect from a life of solitude and rejection?" She fell silent, biting at her plump lip.

"Ma'am…?" Lucille prodded, intrigued by her anguished tone.

"Oh Lucille. So many moments of that night have been twisted, and events leading up to it. To many, he was just a pest… An annoyance that ran rampant in the Opera. To me… He was my dearest friend, my confidante. He was the only one I could trust, before he ruined it with his deceit." She let out a breath of exasperation and bowed her head.

"What happened?" Christine was slow to reply.

"The Phantom wasn't all that he seemed. He actually, in a way, rescued me when I was a young girl. I must've been about eleven or twelve and in deep mourning. You see, my father had died earlier in the year and I was so upset that I cried almost every day. His death left a wound in me that was raw and the Phantom patched it up as best as he could. I would go to the chapel to pray and to cry, for it was my sanctuary and that is where I met him. He sang to me with his sweet voice, to calm my anger, my distress. He listened to me. He was such a gentle man but I never saw him as he hid in the walls of the chapel and spoke to me through a grate on the wall. I believed him to be my Angel of Music." Lucille looked at her, baffled.

"Angel of Music…?"

"A creation of my fathers, he used to tell me that the Angel would come when I needed him the most and tutor me in the way of music. When this man appeared, I asked him if he was and he said 'yes, my child. I am your Angel of Music.'"

"But he wasn't, was he?" Christine's soft smile faltered.

"No. He wasn't."

"So how did you find out?" Lucille asked in an urgent voice, enthralled with this tale Christine was weaving for her.

"On the eve of my debut as soprano. After my performance, I went back to my dressing room to escape the chaos that was ensuing outside my door. Raoul managed to get in, however. He asked me out to dinner."

"Begging my pardon but that's a bit forward, considering he had just met you!" Christine eyes sparkled and she let out a gentle laugh, and Lucille's cheeks flared red once more.

"Oh no, my dear. I had known Raoul when I was a child. That wasn't our first meeting!" Lucille laughed then, her cheeks still red as she covered her eyes in embarrassment.

"Forgive me, I am fairly new to serving this family." Christine ran her thumb over Lucille's delicate knuckles, her lips pulled in to a rare genuine smile she barely showed these days.

"It's alright. But, that was the night Erik also revealed himself to me…"

"Erik? Is that… Is that the Phantom's name?" Lucille pressed her lips together before letting out a childish giggle, her eyes alight of mirth and Christine looked at her in bemused confusion.

"Something funny, Lucille?"

"I'm sorry, I just didn't think that his name would be something so… Unthreatening." At this, Christine let out a subtle giggle and nodded her head in agreement.

"I suppose. But I was so angry when I realised who he actually was, how he had lied to me for all of those years. I thought that I knew him but I didn't and… Oh Lucille it is all so complicated what happened between us but something did… Some connection formed, even though I was so angry with him. And then that night… I was just so confused over what I truly felt for both of them. When I returned a few nights ago, I had been at my surrogate mother's house planning the wedding and he turned up. In truth, Anna and I had planned it as I needed to talk to him but it was still a shock seeing him before me. So many things were said, there was a lot of confusion and when he left… I felt empty. I may never see him again for he travels to America on the day of my wedding and he is never going to return." A silence settled over the two ladies as the words seemed to ring around them. Footsteps sounded by the door in the hallway but quickly passed, a tap in the en suite dripped fat drops of water and the floorboards above them creaked softly. The light over the fields shifted suddenly and the whole land was covered in gnarled shadows from the trees illuminated in the cold moonlight, a fox sounded it's call as it lurched its way across the field by the lake and a crisp air blew in to the room, making goose bumps appear on both ladies' arms. Lucille bit her bottom lip in thought at her words and decided to give her truthful opinion on it all.

"Ma'am, allow me to be frank."

"Of course."

"It is clear to me that Master Raoul has not quite captured your heart as much as he'd have liked. The man you seek, who you belong with is somewhere out there, waiting for you! Forgive me when I say this but you do not belong here. This place," she gestured to the high ceilings and decadent wall coverings, to the four poster bed and pristine white furniture embellished with gold, "this isn't you. And it is so clear that you are unhappy, so why have you come back?" Christine glanced at her, eyes shining with tears unshed.

"Because he forbade me to go with him. He told me I'd be better off here, with all of these riches."

"And since when do us woman allow men to tell us what we shall and shall not do?" Lucille declared haughtily, thrusting her hands on to her hips, "I do not mean to be so harsh but really ma'am you ought to follow your heart. The head, it thinks it is wise and knows what it is doing but it is the heart," At this, she placed her hand on her heart relishing its steady beat beneath her breast, "that knows the truth of all things. Listen to your heart." Christine, unable to listen to such words of truth withdrew her hand from Lucille's and curled them up in her lap.

"You speak to out of place with me, young girl." Lucille flushed with anger before quelling it with difficulty.

"You're only talking to me like that because you know it is true. I have learnt from experience, Ma'am. I have two sisters, both older than me and both are married. One married for love, one for convenience. Who do you suppose is the happiest in their situation?"

"The one who married for love…?" Christine replied meekly, put out by her handmaid's passionate words.

"Exactly. My sister who married for convenience is desperately unhappy and has sought comfort in a delivery boy of similar age! Scandalous really, but that is what happens when you are desperate for a change."

"I do not wish to… have relations with the delivery boy!" She expelled air in a delivery of frustration and looked to Lucille for aid. "What should I do?"

"That is not for me to say. You must make your own decision. But know this, whatever you decide I will be with you every step of the way. This family have been good to me, but they are not kind. Should you wish to leave, I'd like to come as well, should you permit it."

"Of course, I'd love nothing more. But Lucille, I cannot pay you."

"I only wish for your friendship and nothing more." Before Christine could reply, a colder air blew in and this time she shivered, pulling the shawl tighter around her form. Lucille inclined her head to look at the bathroom door and decided to run her mistress a bath. While she was away, Christine thought over her words and shut her eyes tight so she could listen to her heart. 'Erik' was the name it screamed, who was she to deny it? Her whole body cried out for him! She inspected the furniture around her, cold and meaningless ornaments that only enhanced the cleanliness around her. It meant nothing to her at all. In fact, she hated it. The few belongings she did own remained locked away in a draw, a photo of her father as well as a flattened rose that she kept hidden away in the fold of a letter she had received the day before the night it all happened from Erik. Her father's violin had been put under the bed. She unlocked this draw now, withdrew the letter and held it to her nose, breathing in its musky scent that reminded her over its previous owner and knew what she had to do. Lucille finished running the bath and stepped out to inform her mistress it was ready when she saw her stand suddenly, her form illuminated like a ghost in the moonlight.

"Ma'am?"

"I know what I have to do." She spun abruptly on the spot to face Lucille, revealing the letter she still grasped in her hand. "Lucille, can I trust you, no matter what?"

"Of course Ma'am, cross my heart!" Her handmaid replied, clutching the soft towels she held in her arms tighter to her breast, alarmed at the sudden change in mood.

"Then there is something that I need you to do."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N-**

 **I do apologise for the amount of time it takes me to publish these chapters but life is busy! In this chapter, we have no Erik and no Christine. I felt it was time to focus our attention on the other characters of this story. I also would like to mention that I am bored of decorating Raoul as a crazed maniac intent on destroying the Phantom. So here, I have decided to paint him in more of a gentler tone for those of you who admire Raoul and are fed up of seeing him painted as the bad guy too.**

 **As usual, I do not own any of the characters and all rights go to Gaston Leroux and other parties.**

 **Your reviews are invariably welcome and appreciated and I do hope you take the time to let me know what you think of this chapter. I thank you for the reviews you do leave, as it makes me want to write more of this story for you.**

 **Enjoy, my friends.**

 **~oOo~**

Antoinette Giry put her knitting needles down with a sigh and stretched out her aching fingers, reaching for the bottle of lavender oil she kept on her bedside table. She massaged the oil into her knuckles, the problems of her two surrogate children playing heavily on her mind. She often knitted when she felt troubled, as it calmed her nerves and made her forget about life's inconveniences, but this was one that would not go away. It played on a loop in her brain and with a sigh, she put the knitting away in her draw and lay back down on her bed, staring at the parchment coloured ceiling above her. Really, exasperated was a word that played too lightly on how she was feeling as she wondered how on earth two people who were clearly in love could be so abhorrently cruel to one another. To play on one's feelings was something that Anna chided Christine for as soon as she revealed the context of her meeting and sent the girl away feeling even more down trod than she had been feeling. In truth, Anna did feel awful for chiding the girl instead of consoling her but she was just fed up with the way the two treated each other. Erik was just as bad but she hadn't had the chance to scold him like the child he was.

Anna sighed heavily, lying down on her side so that she was face to face with a portrait of her dear Meghan, relieved that she had one child that did not create trouble like the other two did. In a matching frame and on the right hand side of Meghan sat a portrait of Christine who she noticed shined happiness, an emotion she had not seen in her for days. Funny how on the other side of her bed, Erik's portrait mirrored Christine in position, forever gazing at each other from across the room. Anna turned slightly to look at the portrait, one that Erik drew himself when he used to live here and one she found crumpled up in the bin. Erik had no idea that she had clutched it out of the bin and framed it in a dark wooden frame that mirrored the darkness of charcoal it contained.

"Oh Erik, why did you have to kill?" She murmured, thinking of Piangi's lifeless body hanging like a bloated pig in the back drop. Strange how she loved a man so dearly, a man that had killed and extorted the opera house, a man who had threatened her surrogate daughter, who had terrorised everyone. A man who she knew had lived a life full of bad luck, of cruelty. She coughed lightly, a cold that had lingered with her for several days had started to vanish yet her head had a gained a fuzziness that ached even more with such troubled thoughts. Anna reached for the lavender oil again, this time inhaling its intoxicating scent which reminded her of Christine, no doubt tucked up in bed in the wonderfully luxurious De Chagny manor house. The fuzziness dispersed slightly, but still rattled against her skull so that she groaned in frustration at her illness. A groan that was followed by a rather hasty knock at the door. Anna sat up in surprise, tilting her head in wonder to whether she had actually heard the knock or not. She swung her legs over the bed, her pale yet well-defined feet slipping free of her nightgown as her toes ghosted the floor boards beneath her. Wondering if she was going mad, Anna reached for the tartan shawl she had draped carelessly over her coverlet and wrapped it around her shoulders, starting when the knock sounded again. With a befuddled muttering of words, she reached for the oil lamp that glimmered dully on her chest of drawers and slipped silently down the stairs, hesitating mere footsteps away from her door. She was not averse to visitors, no she had had many people cross her threshold, most of them were her students seeking extra tuition or advice. A handful of friends had visited for tea, but none who would visit at eleven in the evening. She wondered suddenly if it was Erik, but then reconsidered knowing that he was unlikely to ever grace his presence on her doorstep again, not after what happened that night. Fiddling with the lock, Anna unlatched the door but kept the chain locked in and peered out in to the darkness, dearly startled when she saw the strained face of Raoul De Chagny peer back at her.

"Madame Giry, I apologise for the hour in which I have visited you, but I must insist that we talk." Flustered by his demanding tone, she closed the door so that she could remove the chain before opening the door fully and allowing the young man. Outside, she saw the crested carriage sit awkwardly in the middle of the street, knowing it would be attracting many unwanted glances. Closing the door, Anna followed him in to the parlour room, immensely aware of her scarcity of clothes and dishevelled hair but one does not expect visitors so late in the night. Slightly angered by this intrusion, Anna placed the lamp down with a thud on the bureau and went about turning up the other lights so that she could see him clearly.

"I must say, Moniseur De Chagny, that this is most inappropriate." She huffed, hugging her shawl closer to her form.

"I realise that, Madame, but I would not come unless it was necessary."

"You could not wait until morning?" Anna replied haughtily. She did not even bother to offer the young man a drink or a place to sit, abandoning her manners due to her anger and hoped he had the sense to realise that she did not want him here.

"It could not." He uttered, fiddling with a gold button on his coat. Anna clicked her tongue in a soft sigh.

"Very well. Say what you must." Raoul gave her a nod of thanks, spreading out his hands in a gesture of uncertainty before he began.

"The night Christine returned from yours, she was in tears. She spoke to no one and went straight to her room. She did not even offer me a hello. For days she has spent most of her time there, occasionally coming down for the odd meal, but most of the time talks to no one and acts like a ghost." Anna flinched inwardly at the mention of that word, her thoughts distracted towards Erik before Raoul started to talk again, unaware that she was half listening to his tale, "Would you, by any chance, know why she has been acting so peculiar these past few days?" Anna looked at him indignant.

"Is it not your duty to find out what the matter is with her? She is your fiancée as I recall and your responsibility." Raoul puffed a sigh, pacing around the room in agitation.

"As I said, she has not been talking to anyone, especially not me. Why would she be behaving like this? Did anything peculiar happen to her that night she visited your house?" Anna drew back in surprise at his sudden harsh tone but did not feel intimidated by his boorish glare. Instead, she straightened her spine and neck and gave him a look of indifference.

"Nothing of peculiarity happened that night. We spoke about the wedding for as you know, I have been helping her with a few last minute details." Raoul gave out a short cry of agitation and collapsed into the well-worn sofa, cradling his head in his hands.

"Then why is she treating me like a stranger? Why is she ignoring me, not talking to me? Have I done something wrong?" He gave her a look of despair and despite how she felt, she could not help the surge of sympathy that ran through her.

"She has been through a lot." She finally said in a quiet tone.

"Then she forgets that she was not the only one who went through that ordeal. She does not realise that I still see his face when I sleep, feel his hands around my neck. The ghost still torments me, even now." He spoke with a rough voice and stared at the ground beneath him, listening to the slow steady ticks of the clock that sat on the mantelpiece.

"She needs time. To forget. To move on." And then, a half-hearted truth to console the boy, "She does love you. But it is hard to recover from an ordeal such as that. Especially when you are used as bait to capture a person she admired greatly." She couldn't help but remind him of his involvement in some way, perhaps to emphasise that he was to blame partly for the event that occurred. Raoul gave her a steady look.

"Admired greatly? That… That monster? All he did was cause her pain and torment." Anna felt her cheeks grow hot and her hands curl up in to loose fists.

"Then you do not know the full story." Raoul scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh please, enlighten me." She started to speak but fell silent, suddenly remembering her place.

"It is not my story to tell. Just know that in a time of great darkness for Christine, he was the one who made her believe her life was worth living again. Monsieur, I had not seen my dear child smile for two months until the day she had her first singing lesson with him. Imagine how it must have felt for her, to be used to capture the man who gave her a reason to live."

"But he is a murderer!"

"That I cannot deny. True, he has done many things without moral. But I suppose he has lived most of his life that way…" She trailed off, thinking of his dark past and a look of pain went across her face, one that did not go unnoticed by Raoul.

"So you do know him well…"

"I don't see how that makes a difference." She replied a little snappishly, before taking a short breath to regain her calm countenance. "But if it does, yes I do. I have known him for most of my life."

"And yet you allowed Christine to be involved with him knowing of his past?" Raoul exclaimed but Anna merely sighed at his response.

"I allowed it because I know that they both needed to find happiness. They both gave it to each other… I did not expect him to lose his mentality though. For that, I can only apologise. I thought I knew him better than I did but it seems his years abroad changed him in ways I cannot comprehend. But Monsieur, he wouldn't have dared harm her. She was his world." Raoul sat in quiet contemplation, a little anguished that the two had so much more history than he could understand. He wondered if Christine was still effected from that night or if in reality…. She was missing her tutor. With a laboured sigh, he buried his head further into his hands.

"I did not realise the two had such a strong… Connection. As much as it pains me to ask… Does… Does she miss him? Truly?" Anna bit the inside of her lip, hesitating on whether she should lie or not. But, fed up of always covering up for others, she gave a gentle incline of her head.

"I will not lie to make you feel better. She misses him." Another sigh passed through his lips and he hung his head in resignation. "But Monsieur, you can easily fill that gap if you show her how. If you do not pay attention to your fiancée now, then she will slip deeper in to her darkness and you will lose her. She is need of someone to protect her. Something that only you can do." Raoul seemed to lose colour in his face at her words before releasing an anguished groan.

"It seems I am to battle the Ghost once more. Only this time, in spirit." Raoul got up from his seat, straightening his rumpled jacket and gave her a morose smile. "Well then, seems I have got all that I came for. Thank you, Madame." He made for the door but Anna stopped him, needing to tell him more.

"Monsieur, I must confess that we happened to talk about that night when she came over to discuss wedding details with me. It cannot be helped and I could see she was troubled by the whole affair. Perhaps that is why she returned in tears, from the memories we had resurrected in her mind. But you have done nothing wrong, please believe that." Raoul nodded, seemingly grateful with her words and strolled into the hallway, placing his hand on the front door latch.

"Your information has been most helpful indeed, Madame Giry. Apologies again for visiting you at such a late hour." She followed him into the hallway, studying his slender back before he suddenly turned round, surprising her gently. "One more thing… Have you seen him since that night? Is he still alive?" The only sign of tension she gave was her hand tightening around the handle of the oil lamp she held but her face remained stoic. Would admitting that she had place Erik in more danger? Would the gendarmes be at her door the next day? It would be wise, she thought, to lie just this once. For Erik's sake. So with a pervious look and a perfectly arched eyebrow, she shook her head.

"I have not seen him since that night. I do not know what has happened to him nor do I know where he is."

"But he is still alive?" Anna nodded once and Raoul returned the gesture, perhaps in thanks for her words before stepping out into the cool night.

"If you do happen to see him, please remind him that the gendarmes are still looking for him. I'd warn him to keep an eye out." He said sincerely before flashing her a gentle smile, "I look forward to seeing you at the wedding, Madame. Until then." She did not reply, only watched as he hopped into the carriage, watched as it rattled down the cobbled street and disappear into the darkness. Only then did she release a breath of relief, closing the door behind her. Slightly perturbed by his words of warning, she took herself to bed and wrapped the blankets close around her form. She was glad Meg had been staying at a friend's tonight, Lord knows how she would react. With a worried sigh, she extinguished the already faltering flame of her oil lamp and nestled her head in her pillow. She was getting far too old for all this drama and could only hope and pray that Christine married Raoul and Erik got out safely to America. For all of their sakes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming! Another instalment for you. As usual, all rights go to Gaston Leroux etc and I don't own any of the characters. Much love to you all.**

She stood in front of a mahogany cheval mirror, the maids bustling around her as she gazed lifelessly at her own reflection. The wedding dress was too much, her body heavy with thick silk satin that made her look too much like a doll. The sleeves were puffed at the shoulders, draping down to her slender wrists where the buttons pinched at her skin and to add to the extravagance of it all, Raoul had imported this dress from England. It was rumoured that the lace that adorned her dress was from Honiton, delicate bobbin lace that had been used on Queen Victoria's own dress and now she had similar on her own. A clear message from Raoul, she was his Queen and she was his now. The scratchy material of the veil itched at her nose as she stared at the flowers that decorated the crown; delicate white daisies and clover made up the majority of the crown. She could only smirk at the irony of it all. Clover… She knew very well the meaning behind it. 'Think of Me', the song that changed her destiny and the song that led Erik to reveal himself that night. In her hands she clutched a bouquet of similar flowers, only baby's breath and edelweiss had been added. It was so sickeningly drenched in love that she wanted to open the nearest window and thrust it into the darkness but knew she could not. Not yet.

"Why, Mademoiselle Daae. You look simply wonderful." A portly maid breathed, her hair scraped back into a harsh bun that revealed a round but kindly face. Christine's lips twitched into a smile and she murmured a quiet thank you. More praises came as the maids fluffed the skirts, twigged the veil and flowers so that they sat correctly, smiling all the time. Only Lucille stayed silent by her side, watching her with steady regard and knowing wisely not to smile. She could see through the thin veil of reality and knew just how unhappy her mistress was as she almost looked through her reflection. There were three days left until the wedding.

~oOo~

February in Paris was such a dull affair. The iron cast sky seemed to blend in with the pavements below so that a perpetual wall of grey surrounded the Parisians that hurried around the twisting streets of the city. Amongst this slivered a thick black snake, the Seine, it's scales glittering in the cold moonlight. Trees stripped of their bounty spindled up towards the sky like gnarled fingers, a sea of black and white that studded the boulevards. Dampness seemed to linger around like a bad smell so that your clothes remained damp and sodden, biting you to the core. It was, without a doubt, Nadir's least favourite time of the year. Not only did he have to put up with this coldness, something that he still hadn't got used to after all these years, he harboured a criminal in his rooms. A man who was a cold, calculating specimen of humanity, a man who had undoubtedly faced many hardships in his long years. A man who Nadir had not seen emerge from his room since that night until earlier this morning, where he had gone out the front door in a flurry of anger. He had not returned since and now Nadir sat in his living room, a Persian cave more like filled to the brim with artefacts from his days as Chief of Police. A fire, whilst small, had been stoked into life and crackled, spitting forth orange sparks as the wood creaked in the hearth. It wasn't enough to ward away the arthritic stiffness that invaded his knuckles and he found himself reaching for the small vial of lavender oil that Anna had given to him many moons ago. He rubbed this oil into his knuckles with a scowl disrupting the pleasantness of his face; his soft, obsidian coloured eyes glinted with a new hardness and his plump lips had straightened into a firm line of annoyance. When he had woken up this morning, he had not expected his normal routine to be disrupted so as he now found himself up past midnight, waiting for his ghost of a friend to return home.

"Stupid man." He muttered to no one but himself. He had sent Darius to bed many hours ago after his nervous hovering around had sent Nadir scatty. Poor Darius, he was completely unsure what to do with himself now that both masters had retreated into this black cloud that lingered over the house, courtesy of Erik's current torment. He often found himself with nothing much to do at all and now that Nadir was constantly concerned over his friend's mental health, he was neglected to do mundane cleaning jobs around the house whilst being completely ignored by both parties. Nadir sighed heavily, running his large, calloused hands over his face and despaired at the new wrinkles that seemed to appear every day. Wrinkles from a lifetime of stress that all stemmed from Erik's recklessness and disregard for life.

"Stupid, stupid man." He found himself repeating.

When the clock chimed one in the morning, Nadir released a lengthy groan, resting his head against the back of his armchair. He felt his half-moon glasses slipping off his nose but did not re adjust them, instead he let them fall onto his chest, their gold rim glinting in the warm fire. It was this mesmerising twinkle that adverted Nadir's attention and slowly, he felt his eyelids slipping shut, their heavy weight being teased down much against his will. It was only when he felt himself succumb to sleep that the front door slammed shut rather harshly, the sound resonating around the small apartment and jolting Nadir awake. He fumbled for his glasses and slipped them back on, peering round the apartment in a confused and dazed manner until his eyes landed on the shadowy figure skulking in the doorway. Quickly, he tried pulling his expression into that of irritation but Erik merely chuckled with mirth at the sudden change and loped forward into the room. It did not take long for Nadir to realise something was 'off' with him, perhaps it was the limpness in which he carried himself, or the vacant expression in his eyes. When he was directly opposite him, sat in his chosen chair, Nadir's nostrils flared at the sudden stench of alcohol and the thick fug of cigar smoke that clung to his clothing and realised, with horror, that Erik was actually inebriated.

"Where the hell have you been?" He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He was pissed off and wanted Erik to know it. Yet, if anything, Erik grew more belligerent when alcohol flew through his veins and he smirked coldly at Nadir.

"I'm so sorry, dear Father, did I keep you up past your bedtime?" His icy, mocking tone only infuriated Nadir more so that he had to keep his hands preoccupied lest they find their way round Erik's neck.

"You're a fool, Erik. Getting drunk when you're still a wanted man in Paris?! What were you thinking?" He spluttered.

"Actually, I'm a wanted man in the whole of France." Erik stated rather proudly, causing Nadir to groan in exasperation.

"That is not something to be proud of Erik! You should be laying low, preparing for you journey! Instead you swan off for the whole day and return to my house in a reckless, drunken fashion!" Erik merely scoffed and waved away his worries as if they were trivial, instead returned his unfocused gaze to the fire. "Do not wave away my worries as if... Ugh!" Nadir pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, cursing under his breath the very man that sat before him. "Where were you?" He bit out but Erik merely rolled his eyes.

"If it will cease your infernal worrying, I was in my lair. Drinking by myself and smoking by myself. Does that satisfy your curiosity?" Nadir shook his head in confusion.

"Why on earth did you return back there? Isn't that place crawling with journalists and police?" Erik fixed Nadir with a cool, unimpressed glare.

"In case you have forgotten we are moving to America and all my personal belongings are in that damned lair. I scoped the place out before I settled down, I'm not that much of an idiot." Erik's hand that had scarcely been gripping on to the arm of chair now lolled down by its side and he looked at it languidly, as if he was unsure how it got there.

"Oh and you just happened to come across a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigars whilst you were down there, did you?" Erik smiled lazily and shrugged.

"Packing is a tiring business." Before Nadir could even say anything, they were both interrupted by heavy, dull thuds on the window. Both looked over in curiosity and both had different reactions to what they saw. It was raining, a sudden outburst it seemed and Nadir groaned at the increasing dampness of this month whereas Erik smiled. He had always liked the rain. He loved the way it created unexpected pandemonium amongst the people pacing the streets, the way it obscured everything and cast the world in slate of grey mist. It also set everyone into a morose, irritated mood and at this stage in his life, he revelled in others misfortune. If he wasn't happy, why should everyone else be? Distracted momentarily, Erik leaned back in his seat and awaited the lecture to continue but Nadir had grown silent in his reverie. It seemed the rain has done its trick and subdued Nadir into a glowering mood and yet despite the chilled air outside, beads of perspiration prickled Nadir's forehead and he gave Erik a sideways glance.

"We need to talk." He finally said, thickly, as if his mouth had been sucked dry of moisture. Erik smiled but it did not reach his eyes and felt tension ripple in his neck.

"I wondered why you had waited up so late for me. Go on then, Nadir, out with it." Nadir did not speak but gave Erik a measured look as he reached into the inner breast pocket of his jacket. From it, he withdrew a letter with dog eared corners and placed it on the table in front of him, pushing it until it almost teetered over the edge close to Erik's knees.

"What... Is that?" His masked friend said, with the slightest tinge of fear edging into his voice. Nadir was quick to quip back.

"I would have thought, from your extensive letter writing career, that you'd know precisely what that is. But I guess you haven't written enough."

"Clearly," Erik drawled, not bothering to look up from the letter, "as you're still somehow sitting before me." Nadir scowled but didn't remark back, merely watched carefully as Erik picked up the letter with his spindly fingers, gripping it as if it been tainted with the plague and carefully unfolded it.

 _Dear Nadir,_

 _I write to you in haste to warn you that Erik may return in one of his black moods and I beg you to keep an eye on him. As to why… Christine was here when he came round to tell me of America. They've been conversing for some time downstairs… But I doubt the outcome will be good._

 _I will try and update you soon on what was said… Unless you get it out of him before me which I will doubt you will._

 _Look after him._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Anna._

Erik did not say anything, merely refolded the letter and placed it down on the table. Sobriety seemed to hit him like a brick wall, followed quickly by a dulling headache that wrapped its dark tendrils around his brain.

"Where is the other one?" He asked, slowly, fixing a glare on Nadir. He merely shrugged.

"There wasn't one. Perhaps she didn't have time to write one." Nadir dragged the letter back with the tips of his fingers and shoved it back into his pocket. He had been debating all day whether or not to show Erik and now that he had… He wasn't sure it had been the best approach seeing as rage had dulled his friend's eyes.

"So what, you've waited up to interrogate me? On how I handled it with her?" He ground out, clenching his hand into a tight fist.

"I waited up for you to make sure that you were ok. I am worried about you, Erik. When you hole yourself away for days on end and don't bother to talk… It frightens me. It reminds me of those dark days…" He was, of course, referring to a dark period of time in Mazenderan when Erik had been driven mad by a restriction on his hashish and had locked himself away in a cellar. The claw marks Nadir had found on the walls and trap door the next day had sent chills down his spine, heightened when he saw the bloody fingertips of his friend who had curled up into a fetal position on the floor.

"I'm not like that anymore." Erik murmured, knowing exactly what moment Nadir had been referring to. The rage still simmered underneath the surface but he merely sighed and settled back into his plush armchair, resting his chin on his hand.

"Aren't you?" The worry was thick enough in his voice to make Erik squirm uncomfortably. He still wasn't quite used to having someone care for him like this. He sighed again.

"What do you want to know?" Erik finally asked in a resigned voice, not bothering to look at Nadir, even though he noticed the reluctance in Erik's voice.

"Erik… I am not going to force you to tell me anything. If you don't want to tell me… That's fine. I just want to make sure that you are coping… That you are okay." The rain pelted heavier against the windows, followed by a heavy, aching rumble of thunder. A miserable night, Nadir thought, to match the miserable man that sat before him in silence.

"I won't lie. I'm bored of lying. I'm… I'm not ok, Nadir. I… I haven't been for a while."

"What happened?" He probed gently, noticing the shadow of darkness that had started to settle over his friend. Like depression was his shadow, constantly at his heels and refusing to leave his side.

"It's true that she was there when I went to visit Anna. I was not expecting to see her and it… It took me by surprise. I was going to leave, return later, for her sake. But… She actually wanted to talk to me." This surprised Nadir.

"About what?" Silence ensued until Erik spoke quietly.

"About that night. The things we said, my despicable actions. She felt like we needed closure. I thought we had already had it when she left with him that night. I thought she had made her choices very clear."

"But…?" Nadir could sense the hesitation in Erik's face before the words came spilling out of his lips.

"She told me that had we not been so cruel to each other, then maybe we could've learned to… like one another." Then he snorted in disbelief as if he had only just taken in their conversation properly, "She told me that I was her saviour. _Me_? Of all people? Ridiculous. She said that I brought lightness to her darkness. Surely, it should be the other way round, for she most certainly brought light back into my life after so many years of being blind to the world. Then… She told me that she missed me." His voice cracked a little but Nadir didn't dare interrupt this torrent of emotion sprouting out of his friend. "She then had the audacity to tell me that I didn't give her a choice when I turned her away. That she had made… a wrong decision." His eyes flickered up to Nadir and they were swimming with wrought emotion, "Christine wanted to choose me. She told me that. Told me that she didn't love him the way she should do and that… Oh God, she told me that she didn't want to marry him." Erik cast his eyes heavenward, "Why does God torment me so? Every word that came out of her mouth was surely false."

"You don't know that for sure." Nadir said carefully, sitting forward in his seat. Erik let out a strangled choke, tossing his mask from his face onto the floor. He didn't care if Nadir saw it. Not after their years together. He carefully and gently rubbed his calloused hands over his face, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"She told me she _loved me_ , Nadir. Loved me." It startled Nadir when Erik removed his hands and saw tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. He had only ever seen Erik cry once, when Reza had died. The thought was enough to bring a lump into his throat as he fought furiously to keep his own tears back. "Then she kissed me." Nadir swallowed thickly.

"What happened after that?" Nadir dared to ask as he fiddled with the signet ring on his little finger.

"I told her she was being childish and she was making a huge mistake. Told her to marry Raoul and forget me." It was the first time Erik had mentioned Raoul's name since that night and he was incredibly shocked to see how he didn't glower in rage and the very mention of it.

"What?" Nadir breathed. He was half expecting to find Christine locked up in his room somewhere, but was not expecting this. Erik just shrugged.

"I'm poison. She's better without me. So… I cut the ties and told to move on with her life and be happy with Raoul. She kept begging me to reconsider but I didn't want to hear it. To know that I was a whisper away of ever having a normal life with her _kills me_. But… Her happiness is more important than mine. It always will be." Nadir shook his head, incredulous.

"I don't believe that for a second." Nadir muttered, quick to correct himself when he saw the anger flare in Erik's eyes. "Hold on… Not like that. I believe every word you said, Erik, I just don't believe that you don't deserve happiness. Yours is just as important as everyone else's, Erik. Never doubt that. The fact that you were willing to let go of the woman you loved after a second chance, to be a bigger man just goes to show how brave you really are. How big your heart really is. This is the man that I have always seen, Erik. And I wish that just for once, you'd value your happiness as much as others do." Erik, whilst humbled by his words, shrugged dubiously.

"It just seemed like the right thing to do." Before Nadir could reply, Erik was up on his feet, swaying slightly as the sudden momentum mixed with the muddled alcohol in his veins creating a dizzying sensation in his head. "The sooner we get to America, the better. The sooner we can forget everything." Erik mumbled, picking his way to his room.

"It's not just going to go away, you do know that right?" Erik stopped, tilting his head at his words.

"I know. But it's a new start. Let the old wounds heal. We will both have battle scars, but at least they'll be old."

"I am so proud of you, Erik." Nadir found himself saying, his cheeks blushing at the honesty of the words he'd never thought he'd hear himself saying. But, it seemed, Erik appreciated these words and gave him a crooked grin.

"Sure you're not drunk as well, old man?" He chuckled, the mirth not reaching his eyes as he stalked off to his bedroom. "Goodnight, Nadir and... Thank you." Nadir watched after him, unable to move from his seat and wondered to himself how a man so blindly in love was able to let her go a second time and marvelled at the maturity he had shown. He glanced at the mask sitting on the floor staring at him, as if demanding why it had been so rudely discarded on the floor until a thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Sitting back in his chair, he squeezed his eyes shut and sighed heavily.

He had suddenly wondered if the letter he had sent to Mademoiselle Daae had been a good idea after all.


End file.
